


shadows following the light

by darthpumpkinspice



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Mortis (Star Wars), Seduction to the Dark Side, playing fast and loose with canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:02:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25101349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darthpumpkinspice/pseuds/darthpumpkinspice
Summary: This is the story of how the Son seduces the Chosen One, and ruins him.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker/The Son | Fanged God, The Daughter | Winged Goddess/The Son | Fanged God
Comments: 5
Kudos: 47





	shadows following the light

**Author's Note:**

> just had fun with this one! not meant to be taken super seriously, as the Son and his connection to the dark-side/Anakin are RIFE with contradictions (and intentional, I believe(!), which is why I will gush over the Mortis episode any day) I mostly just cherry-picked some fun elements and used this as an excuse to play with some of the Son/Anakin dynamics I liked! obviously, this doesn't necessarily conform to canon one bit LOL

The Daughter explodes into the universe first, a blaze of radiance and light against the deep emptiness that will one day be called _space_. She spills herself into the absence that is the void, making it a blank canvas for her creation to be painted upon. She crafts massive stars, breathes life into the cosmos, and weaves the first, primordial organisms into the fabric of existence.

The Son comes next, born in the wake of her brilliance. His most ancient memory will be of her; of searing, agonizing beauty, and of trying to stretch himself out towards it, towards her. She embraces him, as she embraces all things, but her warm, welcoming arms burn him, and in turn his presence pollutes her fledgling creations – the world that hosts their first union is rendered scoured and lifeless from his touch.

The Daughter flees in despair, but light cannot chase away its shadows. The Son follows on his sister’s heels, never far from her. They are twins, in a sense- more intimate than siblings, more familiar than lovers.

This is their pattern, for a time that may or may not last an eternity:

The Daughter graces a world with her light, and it shines in reflected glory. Life occurs, and then multiplies. It does not ever _stop_ multiplying. Then the Son arrives as a dark plague, devouring everything in its path. He does not bring death to her creations out of malice – he _loves_ the things she has designed, he adores them all. It is simply the unfortunate result of his nature: nothing can survive his touch for long.

The Father comes last, after an instant or an eon, formed out of necessity. He is balance, control, and his first act is to temper both the Son and Daughter, weakening their power. His second act is to bind them both to a world beyond time- Mortis.

From this place, they exert their power onto the galaxy beyond in a more distant way- feeding the Jedi and the Sith. Proxy wars spring to life as Empires and Republics grow and sicken and wither into dust over the course of millennia. Thousands of years pass in the blink of eye and then… there is a shift in the Force. An entity of a singular, brutal destiny- made for one purpose. To bring _balance_.

The Chosen One is not meant for him, his sister cautions. The Son cannot bring himself to care. He sees Skywalker and lusts over his potential, the dread power that is his birthright. The Son has always wanted most what is not, what _cannot be_ , his. The darkness that he was created from (or he created, he cannot remember anymore, none of them can- not even his wise sister or cunning father), is always hungry, always searching. It demands to be filled, although it can never be satiated. And this is the essence of the Son, of the darkness from which he is anchored to: there is no limit to what he wants. And what he wants, he takes.

So the Son takes, because it is in his nature. And the tragedy is not in the taking itself- it is that everything he takes he inevitably destroys. He stains his sister’s creations, bleeds his will into them, and once they have been touched by him they are never the same.

The Son seduces the Chosen One, and ruins him.

Skywalker is perfection: a monument built and shaped by the Force itself. He is a vortex of power, a tangle of rich, heady emotion in the shape of a man. He carves his pain into his soul, and he returns that pain to the universe tenfold. The Son falls for him after he slaughters the Tusken Raiders that steal his mother from him: a massacre that functions as a succinct declaration to the universe itself, in the form of blood and death and disproportionate rage.

All the Daughter sees in Skywalker's message is simple, vicious evil, and she turns from him in that moment. But the Son looks past the mangled corpses, and _he_ sees the plea underneath, from an agonized youth never taught to deal with regret or loss. He sees the _question_ there - _how can I endure this? How can I make it so this never happens again?_ , and he decides to answer it. He comes to Skywalker that night, a dark whisper purring into his ear: feeding him dreams of limitless power, of a galaxy made perfect- where none of his loved ones ever have to die….

This is manipulation, yes, but there is no dishonesty in it: the Son believes in the Chosen One, completely and utterly. He is so dazzled by his potential that he cannot fathom Skywalker ever failing, and he, in turn, wants nothing more than to give the Chosen One everything he has ever craved. 

He _is_ aware of Skywalker’s would-be fate… of fiery almost-death, agonizing rebirth, and enslavement to a creature whose hunger and malice eclipse even the Son’s. But the Son also knows this: the future is not set. And in a testament to his blind infatuation for Skywalker, he has no doubt that _together_ they can change that uglier destiny, and replace it with the dreams he has promised him. 

That is not the last time the Son comes to Skywalker. As the Clone Wars begin in earnest, he visits him more and more frequently, in a multitude of shapes. The Son is well practiced in the arts of temptation, and he knows that the reasons creatures fall are infinite and diverse. He has had beings seek him out for greed, for the want of a mother’s warmth, or for the lack of a father’s regard. The Son seduces the Chosen One with the sweet taste of anger, with the promise of righteous vengeance. He seduces him with the dream of terrible power, of strength and might beyond anything else in the galaxy. He seduces him with a warped version of his own prophecy – that as the _Chosen One,_ he will be a _hero,_ and go on to save the galaxy, basking in the adoration of the liberated masses. _This_ is a lie, of course… Skywalker will be resented for his victories just as often as he is praised- but is the most dangerous sort of lie, the kind built on a fragile _hope_ , and it lurks dormant in the Chosen One like an infection, spreading, growing, shedding doubt and insecurity and darkness as the years go by and the war does not have the _decency_ to end cleanly or fairly. 

But Skywalker’s seduction is not complete, and when he arrives on Mortis the Son comes to him again, this time as a friend- showing him his would-be future, and the promise of _more_. Skywalker’s eyes go poison yellow, and he looks up at the Son with a haunted expression of grief.

 _Help me_ he begs.

 _I will_ the Son assures him. _You deserve the galaxy, and I will see that you_ have _it. No Jedi, Sith, or phantom Emperor will_ ever _harm you._

Skywalker’s golden eyes dim with something like relief, before blazing hot and bright with affection for his new ally. The Son tangles his hand in Skywalker’s hair and kisses him, and when Skywalker’s lips part and he lets the Son’s tongue slip inside his mouth… the Son _knows_ that no matter what, Skywalker belongs to _him_ now. It makes no difference when the Father purges the memories of the future from Skywalker’s mind, and it makes no difference when his eyes blink back to blue. The Son has won, has claimed the Chosen One as his.

Because this is the essence of Anakin Skywalker: in the end, he will always fall for nothing greater or lesser than _love_. 


End file.
